


A Grave Argument

by nocturnias



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnias/pseuds/nocturnias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock learns that there are limits to Molly, the morgue, and his requests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Grave Argument

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at the request of the phenomenal Flavialikestodraw on Tumblr for the 30 days of Sherlock thing. Thank you for asking me, sweetie! It was an honor to write this for such a talented artist!

“Sherlock, I said no, and that is the final word!” Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest and scowled.

He frowned at her. “I don’t see why you’re being so unreasonable, Molly. It’s not as though I’m asking you to commit murder.”

“You’re asking me to smuggle out a corpse! A _corpse_ , Sherlock! That’s a bit different than letting you beat a body with a riding crop or giving you a severed head! It’s illegal, immoral, and I could get sacked!”

“And the other things you’ve mentioned are illegal, immoral, and could get you sacked as well,” he retorted.  “Why are you drawing an arbitrary line at an entire body?”

“It is not the same! That person has to be buried, Sherlock! So his family can grieve properly!”

Sherlock waved a hand. “They can grieve just fine with an empty casket. I’m not saying you have to tell them, Molly.”

“NO.”

“Why are you being so ridiculous?” He asked, exasperated.

“Oh, so now I’m ridiculous!” Molly said, temper going from simmer to boil. “Excuse me that I happen to care about people! You could do with a little more of that, you know!”

“Oh, dear Lord, spare me the lecture on sentiment!” Sherlock moaned. “It’s bad enough I get it from both you and John…”

“You know what? This conversation is over,” Molly answered angrily. “Now I want you to think about what you’ve said to me today, and think hard, Sherlock, because your ability to breeze your way around the post-mortem room and lab depend on it. Until then, get out! Out of my morgue and out of my sight!”

“Fine!” Sherlock huffed, grabbed his scarf, and stormed out.

Three hours later, as Molly’s shift was about to end, the door opened a crack. A harpoon slid through, with a white handkerchief attached to it. It jiggled back and forth unsteadily, and she couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

The door opened wider and Sherlock stuck his head into the room. “May I come in?” He asked softly.

“That depends on what you have to say.”

“I am sorry,” Sherlock said quietly. “What I asked for was inappropriate. Regardless of whether or not I can understand the sentiment, the dead belong to the living who were close to them.”

Molly nodded slowly. “And you’ll never ask me to smuggle out a body again?”

“I won’t,” he said. There was a pause. “Am I forgiven?”

“Yes, you are,” she replied. “Thank you for the thinking and the apology.”

Sherlock smiled at her. “Since I’m forgiven, I don’t suppose you’d let me take a hand home, would you?”

“Don’t push your luck today.”

“How about a few fingers?”

“Sherlock.”

“Fine. Deprive me of the body parts I need for experiments,” he grumbled.

He looked so forlorn Molly couldn’t help but grin. For all his genius, Sherlock really was a little kid at times.  “Tell you what. You buy me dinner, a proper dinner, and I’ll let you have a foot.”

“Molly Hooper. Bargaining for a meal with a severed foot? What would Mike Stamford think?” Sherlock asked in mock appall, eyes twinkling.

“He’d think it was horrible, so we’re not going to tell him. Deal?”

“You drive a hard bargain. Deal. Indian?”

“I was thinking Italian, actually,” Molly replied with a mischievous smirk.

“Angelo’s it is,” Sherlock said, grinning.

 

 


End file.
